The Girl in the Tower

The Girl in the Tower

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Chapter Nineteen: Sulking with the Enemy

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The days were quick to pass for Harry, as he enjoyed Lupin's company. The two of them fished together every morning off the long dock and went out in the little boat after lunch, which Harry liked a great deal. With the sun on his face and a salty breeze stirring his hair, it was the sort of freedom he felt on a broom, only the solidarity and isolation of the sea calmed him, filled him with peace and serenity. He couldn't wait to get a boat of his own for the cottage and even asked Lupin's advice on which boat would be best. There was a great bout of laughter over that. Lupin had turned to Harry in all seriousness and said, You're asking a werewolf? Harry laughed so hard he'd lost the only fish to grab his line all day - and that was just fine by him.

They spent the evenings gathering firewood, cleaning fish and turtle sprouts and then sitting together on the porch of their small cabin, drinking tea and catching up. Lupin told funny stories about Harry's parents and Sirius and even a few about Wormtail, but the funniest ones were about Snape as a teenager. Harry told funny stories about Fred and George and of Hermione's fights with Ron, but they were also serious at times. They spoke of teaching, of the future, of tragedies past. One thing they didn't talk about was Sara, and that was fine by Harry, too. In Lupin's company, in this far off and deserted place, Harry felt detached, having stepped out of life somehow and he began to feel his misery slipping away.

Harry checked the locator often over the week he spent on the island with Lupin, but it always said the same thing. Sara was "traveling." He was "on holiday." He kept the Portkey in his pocket, just in case.

He'd been tempted to use it many, many times but restrained himself, refusing to drive himself mad going back there every few hours just to see if she'd answered his note. It could be days, weeks, even months before she went back - or not at all. Harry could not allow it to become an obsession or it would cost him his sanity.

Harry held the thin case in his hand as he relaxed on the porch, waiting for Lupin to pack up the wolfsbane they'd gathered each night, considering how much longer he should wait before checking the cottage. Startled out of his thoughts by laughter, Harry spun around in his chair and found Lupin snickering.

"Harry, I'd hate to say it, but you're quite filthy."

Harry smiled and slipped the key in his pocket. "If you got stuck clearing the fire pit and filling the woodpile, you wouldn't look any better."

Lupin stacked the bundles of wolfsbane and set to tying them to his broom. "Good thing I left those jobs to you, then. The cabin is clean?"

"You know it is. I do a pretty meaningful Scourgify."

Lupin's amusement faded to something else, something affectionate and poignant. "I will miss your company, Harry."

Harry returned the bittersweet smile. "I'm glad I came, Professor. Even if I had to clean the fire pit."

Lupin's hand fell on Harry's shoulder. "I'm glad you came, too. I was quite disappointed when Dumbledore said you'd refused."

"It wasn't that I didn't want to go with you. I-"

"I know, Harry. You didn't want to leave." Lupin fell into his usual chair beside Harry and looked out on the water. "I've done my best to leave my own personal advice unsaid but, now that we're off for home, there's something I want to tell you." Lupin sighed and turned to Harry. "Give her time."

Harry swallowed the grief that loomed in his throat. His voice fell to a whisper. "I'll try." Harry turned his gaze back to the water, watching it lap at the shore, wishing he could get into the little boat and row himself so far away no one would ever find him.

* * *

Dumbledore was on the roof when Harry landed, stretched out on a chaise lounge and looking through last month's copy of Witch Weekly, left behind by Sara and Hermione. Harry was on the cover, to his dismay, wearing his Quidditch gear for the last time and holding the Quidditch Cup.

Dumbledore smiled over the magazine but did not put it down.

"Do you find that trash interesting, Professor?"

"Did you know that, according to this, you are heavily weighing the decision to play Quidditch for England? That's news to me."

"It's news to me, too. I never even considered it. I told you it was trash."

"Then it goes into a long story about Draco Malfoy and most of the pictures are of him." Dumbledore smiled, thumbing through pages.

Harry laughed. "I'm so glad I'm not blond and rich."

To this Dumbledore laughed as well. "Yes, what a curse that would be." He closed the magazine and set it aside. "I trust you and Remus had a satisfactory time?"

"It was great!" Harry grinned. "It was what I think camping must be like. I'd never been fishing before and we caught the most bizarre creatures. Lupin ate his."

"What else would jump on a wizard's hook, but magic fish?"

Harry smiled. "I'd better get cleaned up before dinner."

"Just a moment. I asked that you return today because an invitation came for you. It's from Draco Malfoy." Dumbledore withdrew a folded note from his pocket and handed it to Harry. "He would like to meet you tonight in London. If you choose to go, I was able to reserve you a room at The Leaky Cauldron. The Western European Owl Show's in town, so it wasn't easy. You know how people flock to Diagon Alley for the owl show. It'll be chaos down there all weekend."

Harry did his best not to smirk and opened the note.

Potter,

I want to talk to you. Meet me at Slytherin Spirits Friday night and don't dress like an idiot.

DM

Knowing that Malfoy could very well have important information about Sara; Harry made his decision at once. "How do I get to London, sir?"

"You can rent a Portkey in Hogsmeade. I don't suppose you'd use the Floo network and risk offending Mr. Malfoy with sooty attire."

"Never." Harry grinned. "Hogsmeade it is then. Will I see you before I leave?"

"I will wait for you. I was enjoying this article immensely. Did you know Draco had the highest grades at Hogwarts?"

"No."

Dumbledore smiled. "Neither did I. I was under the impression Miss Granger held that honor. Where do they get this stuff?"

* * *

The second he was dressed and his hair combed, Harry opened the little gold box. He had been waiting for this moment for seven full days and could wait no longer. If he came up empty, he promised himself he would wait another week before trying again.

The next instant, Harry stood just inside the front door, surveying his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was that the blood trail was missing from the carpet. He hurried to the table and there was the little scrap of parchment. Her writing faced up, not his. Harry held it, staring at the single word, relief flooding all his senses. He set it back down in favor of a small cardboard box that had not been there last week.

Inside, he found an elaborate corkscrew, silver with gold accents and covered in jewels. It was an exquisite thing and Harry smiled, taking it down to the wine cellar, where he found a few new bottles, all French. They were set out in plain sight, as the corkscrew had been, and her voice echoed through his mind. 'Harry, look what I got!' Harry smiled, wondering if he'd ever see her again.

They'd amassed a collection of two other corkscrews and those they kept in a drawer next to the racks. Harry added the new one and hurried back up the stairs.

Taking a soda out of the fridge, he stared at the mirror with its entwined hearts and drank it. She hadn't cleaned it and he thanked her in silence. He needed to look at it just as he'd needed an answer to his question.

Harry sat down and composed a new note, one he knew she would read but probably wouldn't answer. It didn't matter. As much as he wanted to hear from her, he would feel better knowing she understood how he felt. He kept it short, deciding she would be less likely to read a long letter.

Sara,

I know about Lucius and I don't care! I'm glad you killed him but I worry about how it must have affected you. You don't have to go through this alone. Talk to me. I miss you.

Love, Harry

Harry left with her note in his hand and an idea growing in his head, something he'd been looking forward to since they'd purchased the property last August. He would not wait a week to go back, he thought as he crossed to the roof, he might return as early as tomorrow morning.

Dumbledore smiled as Harry fell onto the bed. "I think you went a little farther than the shower. Hiding Portkeys are you?"

"We didn't intend to use them here," Harry explained, knowing Portkeys were against the rules. "They're for our house."

"Trying to torture yourself?"

"She goes there, too, sir."

"And what do you have in your hand? Is this what changed your mood so drastically?" Dumbledore took it and read Harry's words.

Do you have regrets?

Sara's reply was on the back.

Never

* * *

Harry hadn't been to Slytherin Spirits since Christmas and, as he entered with his pockets full of Galleons, he decided it hadn't changed a bit. Being Friday night, the place was crowded and Harry fought his way through to the bar. Taking a seat, Harry wondering where he should begin his search for Malfoy, scanning the crowd for a blond head, of which he found many. An attractive girl leaned on the bar beside him and smiled, flirtatious. She had fine features, long golden hair and blue eyes. Harry was quick to turn away.

He stood and dropped a tip onto the bar. To hell with Malfoy, he thought. There are too many memories here.

"You aren't leaving are you, Potter?"

Harry turned to find Malfoy smirking at him. "Did you have to pick this of all places?" Harry asked, more upset than angry.

"Old ghosts, is it?" Malfoy tried to smile, but failed. "Come on, Potter. We'll go down the street. This is the best place to pick up girls but I have a feeling we won't be doing much of that, am I right?"

Harry gave him a serious look of warning and then followed him out.

The Velvet Underground was darker, larger, and more appealing to Harry. The overcrowded dance floor swarmed with energy and the music was super-charged. It was an old stone building, decorated with wrought iron and velvet and black was everywhere.

"I like this place better in all honesty," Draco confessed. "But then I rarely venture out in search of good decor."

"Let's just get a drink."

They found a table in a dim corner. It was occupied, but Draco threw a wad of bills on the table and told them to get lost. Harry thought Malfoy was trying to get them beat up and was surprised when the group left at once. One of the guys even clapped Draco on the shoulder and thanked him. Draco gave him his 'don't touch me' glare. The girls all smiled.

It was away from the floor and subdued so they wouldn't have to shout. Harry took a seat while Malfoy went to the bar and got drinks, returning with reddish concoctions that tasted better than they looked. Harry was glad of this, for he found he was getting sick of Finnigan's Swill, not that he would ever admit it aloud.

"So, Malfoy, what's this little meeting about?"

"Nothing really."

"You said you needed to talk to me."

"No, Potter. Where'd you learn how to read? I said I wanted to talk to you. There's a difference."

"Do you mean you didn't want anything at all?"

The expression on Draco's face turned serious. "I was bored. I didn't want to see anyone else right now. Snape stayed a few days, but he thinks he's all wise and full of good advice. He doesn't understand."

Harry was sort-of touched, but bewildered. Malfoy despised him; it was a well-known fact. "Why me?"

"Because, Potter. You're the only one I know who's as miserable as I am."

Harry smiled. "You know, Malfoy, I think you might be right and, after a few more of these." He held up his half-empty glass. "I may even find you tolerable."

"Hmm." Draco smiled back. "We'll see."

Harry cleared his throat, not knowing how to approach the subject except head-on. "I read the letters. I know you kissed Sara the night of the Yule Ball."

"She was drunk, Potter. She doesn't care about me."

"How I wish that were true." Harry sipped his drink. "The Elemental is drawn to dark things, and you're a dark thing. She adores you and I think it sucks."

"You're wrong." Malfoy almost sneered. "Let's talk about something else."

"Fine. What's on your mind, then? You know what's on mine." Harry looked around the room, liking the darkness and the colored lights flashing. It felt good to be anonymous among people again, but he wasn't comfortable with Malfoy. In his opinion, Draco was acting strange.

"I've seen Granger and the Weasel out a few times. They argue in public. He's always drunk and she's always sober. Last time I told him to get a life and I told her to join a club for nagging bores. I mean really! Aren't they embarrassed?"

Harry checked the locator just out of curiosity, and found Hermione and Ron's hands on "traveling." Ron's soon moved to "Drinking."

"I think they're at Slytherin Spirits."

"Good thing we left. I don't know how much of them I could take right now."

Harry felt a spark of anger. "Did you get me down here just to insult my friends?"

Malfoy sighed. "No. But it's your turn to get drinks. I went last time."

Harry went, thankful for the opportunity to end the conversation. He didn't want Malfoy to get on his nerves. As odd as the situation was, he wanted to stay for all the same reasons. It was nice to talk to someone who knew the situation, was just as affected by it, but was equally as bitter and offered no sympathy. He paid for the drinks and left a tip, feeling he should make it a little extra, considering he was wearing a small fortune in clothes and was in the company of Mr. Mega-Millions himself.

The drinks he set down and slid one in front of Malfoy, who said nothing, just pulled out the straw, flung it on the floor, and drank half before returning it to the table. "The day I buried my father I cursed her, Potter. I cursed the day I met her."

"She had no choice. You know that."

"She could have told Dumbledore. She could have told you, even. But what did she do? She told me. The one person who could do nothing about it."

"You could have told someone just the same. She was scared, Malfoy. What's your excuse?"

"Don't get angry, Potter. I need to talk about it, stupid as that sounds. You asked me what it was about Sara that appeals to Slytherins. I honestly don't know, but I believed her when she said she knew what she was doing. She has a way of lying that fooled me completely and I'm sure it's the same for Snape. She's so charming and she has this air of innocence that has a tendency to disarm, as if she cast a spell with her presence. She knew what she was doing the whole time. It was all a play to put the weight on someone else's shoulders and let them be responsible when she goes out and kills my father."

"I won't let you blame her."

Draco went on as if Harry hadn't spoken. "I gave her a gift for Christmas. Something you didn't know about. She left it next to my father's corpse for me to find. It's obvious what it means."

"Assume nothing, Malfoy. She isn't here to defend herself and I don't know her reasons any better than you do. In fact, I came here hoping you had more to say about why Sara chose to walk out on me, but this is just one big pity party and I won't humor you."

Draco ignored him. "I had a visitor the other night, came into my bedroom as I slept. Do you know who it was?"

"The Charisma Fairy?"

He lowered his voice and Harry leaned in to hear. "It was the Dark lord himself."

Harry swallowed a lump in his throat. "What did he want?"

"He wanted to know my intensions in the wake of my father's death. He asked if I would receive the Dark Mark."

"What did you say?"

"What else would I say? I told him to call at normal hours and to get the hell out of my room so I could get some sleep."

"And he didn't kill you?"

"No, but the next thing I knew I was flying through the air and was on my knees before him, that disgusting Wormtail wringing his hands by his master's side. I can honestly say I was scared half to death, but I only let him see my annoyance."

"What happened?"

"I said I had not yet decided, that it was too soon. He gave me two months to join him and offered me my father's place if I brought him the Elemental."

"What?! Malfoy! You wouldn't?!"

"I'll never hand her over to him. Even if it meant my life, but I can't say what I would do if she walked into the room at this moment. Part of me wants to find her and make her pay for her betrayal. Part of me wants to forgive her. I just don't know."

"And the Dark Mark? Will you submit to such a thing?"

"Really, Potter! Of course not!"

"And you think he'll take it well?"

"Probably not."

"Dumbledore can help you. Come back with me."

"To Hogwarts? Are you mad? I finally got out of that place just two weeks ago and you think I'll go back? You must have taken a Bludger to the head at some point."

"Do what you want. It's no concern of mine. Just know that he'll help you if you want to live to see eighteen."

"I already am eighteen."

"Not for long it sounds."

"We'll see."

"Malfoy? Why are you telling me this? Do you want my help or someone to write the book?"

"I knew this was a stupid idea." Draco stood.

"Wait." Harry grabbed his arm. Draco did not give Harry his 'don't touch me' glare. "It's your turn for drinks. Don't come back empty-handed."

Malfoy hesitated and then smiled and went to the bar.

* * *

"Where are you staying? I'll drop you off. We can't have The Boy Who Lived staggering down the streets of London, now can we?" Draco slid into his chauffeured limo, indicating Harry join him.

Harry got in, admiring the soft leather seats and expensive interior. "The Leaky Cauldron. Dumbledore got me a room for the night."

"And you're going to sleep there?"

"I had planned on it, yes."

"I'll tell you what. I have a house up in the hills and more guest rooms than friends."

Spend the night at Malfoy's house. The offer was almost too tempting, regardless of the earlier part of their discussion, before they really tied one on and forgot they hated each other. So far, they'd had a great time, once the topics turned from Sara and Voldemort to Draco giving full commentary on the couple making out in the corner. Harry hadn't laughed so hard in months and, in his altered state, thought hanging out at Malfoy's was a wonderful idea. "Do you have a pool?"

"Yes, but I'm not swimming with you. Besides." Draco laughed. "I think we'd sink. I do have a daiquiri machine and a really loud stereo."

"Do you have The Beatles?" Harry wondered as the car turned right and headed up an incline.

"You're so lame, Potter. Who listens to The Beatles? Is that a bit of Gryffindor fun?"

Harry thought to inform Malfoy that most of the English-speaking world listened to The Beatles, but decided it wasn't important. "What did you have in mind?"

"Marilyn Manson. There's a bunch of it in that Muggle-Music pack you gave me for Christmas."

"Really? The one you gave me is full of Gospel and this really horrible country and western."

"Oh, sorry. I thought you would like that pansy stuff. Butterflies and Sunday school and a bunch of wholesome whiny crap."

"You're really a creep, Malfoy. Did you know?" Harry grinned as they passed through a black iron gate. "But I'm glad you liked mine. I thought devil music would appeal to you."

"Shove off, Potter. At least I put some thought behind it."

"I suppose you did."

The car came to a stop outside a grand front door of dark wood, carved in a medieval fashion and, when Harry stepped out, he was surprised by a small gothic mansion. It loomed above, imposing and beautiful. He was awed, but wouldn't give Malfoy the satisfaction of impressing him.

"Nice house. The rent cheap?"

"I don't know what the rent is, jackass. I just picked it out."

"I wouldn't want all that money. A lot of money is nice, but just enough so that you don't lose sight of things. You must like it though." Harry smirked.

Draco's face turned serious and he walked through the front hall with nonchalance, his hands clasped behind his back. "I used to. Now it feels like I'm trying to compensate for something that can never be replaced." He didn't wait for Harry to answer. "Take your shoes off."

Draco led him to a room with lots of Turkish rugs, renaissance furnishings, and a medieval theme. Gold suits of armor stood on each side of the mantle and in every corner of the room. There must have been a hundred candles burning, wine was already on ice next to two glasses and a chessboard sat on a low table, surrounded by cushions. Malfoy went to the stereo and Harry looked around, grinning, imagining this was where Draco probably brought women. Harry laughed. "Are you planning to seduce me, Malfoy?"

"Hardly, Potter. You're not my type." Draco smiled. "This just happens to be where the stereo is. Sit down and I'll get some drinks."

"No way. I want to see you make them."

"Fine. To the kitchen then." Draco turned the music up to ear-splitting decibels and led Harry to a large room in the back corner of the house where the daiquiri machine sat alone on a counter, custom made for this appliance. There were many different mixers on a rack and Draco looked through these, pondering each before he looked over his shoulder at Harry. "Piňa colada or grasshopper?" Before Harry could answer, Draco made up his mind. "I don't feel like mint."

Harry closed his mouth and sat on a stool at the end of a large marble island, watching as Malfoy measured out ingredients as if he'd done it a million times and dumped them into a blender while the top half of the contraption chewed up the ice. After a minute, he released the slush into the blender and turned it on. Within moments, they had their oversized drinks and set to wandering the rooms with them.

"So Malfoy, what are you planning to do about Voldemort?"

"There's nothing to be done." Draco gave a heavy sigh. "So Potter, will you come to my funeral?"

"How can you make jokes like that? It isn't funny! Not at all!"

"Unfortunately, it's realistic."

"I don't understand." Harry sipped his drink. "Why won't you let Dumbledore help you?"

"That old fool?"

"You don't have to like him, Draco. Stay at Hogwarts, I'm sure Snape would take you on as an apprentice. You'll be safe for a while."

"I prefer to live dangerously."

"Yeah, or not at all." Harry shook his head in disbelief. "Do you want my help? Is that it? All you have to do is ask."

"Don't hold your breath. One Harry Potter rescue is my quota for life."

"Whatever, Malfoy." Harry rolled his eyes, exasperated. "Perhaps you should ask Crabbe and Goyle then? If there's one thing I've learned, it's that good friends are invaluable in such situations. If you ask me, you don't seem to have too many of those."

"I have friends!"

"So where are they when the Dark lord is at your door?"

"Standing behind him."

"I see." Harry rubbed his eyes. They'd both had too much to drink and he was starting to feel the welcome drowsiness, the festive mood slipping away. Voldemort and death threats usually had that effect on him. "I'll ask you one more time to come back with me."

"Stay here, Potter. No one would be the wiser. No one even knows where I live."

"You've gone mad."

"I can't go back to school and hide from him. There's no honor in it."

Unease had settled under Harry's skin, though he didn't know why and attempted to shrug off the urge to turn and run out of Draco's house. Harry cast his eyes at the floor, noticing his drink had melted and that he'd barely touched it. He'd surrendered completely to excess, feeling relief in the detachment that it brought, and Draco had been the perfect companion. He saw his suffering reflected in Draco, and that made returning a smile acceptable, joining in laughter became all right again. "I can't stay here, Malfoy. I have my obligations. It's Hogwarts or you take your chances."

Draco seemed to consider this, his hand on his chin, holding his piňa colada, all but forgotten. Harry checked the locator out of habit while Malfoy paced the floor, weighing his decision. Ron and Hermione were "sleeping," Sara was still "traveling" and he was... in "mortal peril."

It took a moment to register and Harry suddenly wished he hadn't drank so much. Quick thinking was crucial and his mind was telling him to get out.

"It's getting late," he said and slipped his free hand in his pocket. Harry moved very close to Malfoy, mere inches from him. His fingers flicked open the lid of the little gold box in his pocket. His voice barely a whisper, Harry looked Draco in the eye. "Grab my arm. Now."

There was intensity in Harry's eyes that led Draco to act without question. Harry still held his drink and so did Draco, but his free hand grabbed Harry's wrist.

Harry touched the key.

* * *

Harry pulled his arm from Malfoy's grasp, almost overbalancing in his haste to draw his wand. He spilled his drink all over his hand, but managed to point in the general vicinity of Draco's loathsome blond head. "You set me up!"

"What are you talking about, Potter?" Malfoy sneered. "And where the hell are we?" He looked around, forgetting there was an angry wizard pointing a wand at his head. "Is this your house?" He turned and wandered into the dining room, sipping his melted daiquiri and taking everything in. "It's nice. I like it. Too bad it's so small." He looked around again, confused. "It looked bigger in the pictures."

Harry still stood by the front door, his wand held at arm's length, bewildered. He got the feeling Malfoy had no idea they'd been in mortal peril. He checked the locator again, only to find he was "home." Draco had not been the threat and seemed honest in his perplexity.

Harry caught up to Draco, glancing once at the letter he'd left on the table, which remained unanswered and unread. Malfoy was looking at the mirror, which still held two entwined hearts, one in lipstick, the other in black marker. Draco had an odd look on his face, not a pleasant one, but something akin to gloomy consternation.

Harry stood next to Draco, his heart still racing from their near-encounter. Sorrow invaded him as he looked at the mirror. "We weren't alone at your house."

"Of course not. I do have servants, you know. They just stay out of sight like they're told."

Harry showed him the locator. Draco looked at it without much interest, shrugged and sipped his drink.

"It was on 'mortal peril' when I brought us here."

"Potter, no one could just walk into my house. I have all the usual wards and then some. I think you need another drink."

Harry ignored the sarcasm. "You said Voldemort came into your room in the night. Tell me, how did he get in?"

Draco's face went pale, realizing that Harry was actually quite serious. "I don't know."

"Perhaps you should consider moving." He hesitated. "You could always go home."

"I can't sleep there. It's creepy now. The place where both of my parents died."

"You're not safe where you are. We need to tell Dumbledore. He'll know what to do."

"We're not in school anymore, Potter! When are you going to stop running to the headmaster? We're full-fledged wizards now. We handle our own problems."

"That sort of rationale is going to get you killed, Draco. Could you be any more like Sara? Insisting on handling overwhelming problems on your own. You saw how wrong everything turned out in that case. Tell me, did you ever insist she go to Dumbledore about Lucius?"

"I did. So what! It has nothing to do with what's going on now."

"And she wouldn't listen, even though you could see she was in need of help, endangering herself by being stubborn, unwilling to see reason."

"Yes, exactly. I wanted to shake some sense into her a few times. It was infuriating!"

"Then you know how I feel right now, Malfoy. You're arrogant, impossible, and downright irritating. If you don't listen to me you'll be sorry and by then there will be no room to reconsider."

"Oh shut-up, Potter. I never should have told you."

"How about a compromise? Come back to school for a few days. Give me some time to think about it. Talk to Snape. He escaped Voldemort, perhaps he has some sort of knowledge he could give you. You don't have to tell Dumbledore but you should at least hear his advice. He won't help you unless you want him to."

Draco swayed on his feet for the first time, having kept a sober composure all evening and Harry wondered how he'd managed it. They'd had the same amount of drinks and Harry knew Malfoy was just as affected as he was, but Harry was definitely a little off-balance. Draco was thinking and wandered into the guest room, abandoning his drink and collapsing on the bed. Harry climbed onto the foot and sat down cross-legged, awaiting his response.

"All right. I'll stay a night or two, but it's so I can decide what I want to do. Promise you won't go running to Dumbledore."

"I'll promise no such thing. I've seen the destruction that lies behind such promises. I'll tell him if I think you're throwing caution to the wind but I'm not his informant, Malfoy. I'll let you try to work it out first if you insist."

"Can I have this bed?"

Harry sighed. "We can't stay here." He realized he was still holding the warm piňa colada and took another sip. "No one has ever slept in this house and I won't let you be the first."

Draco's head came off the pillow. "And where the hell do you think we're going? We don't even have any shoes! We left them at my house!"

"I have a Portkey that will take us to Hogsmeade. We can walk to the castle from there."

"I despise you, Potter. Did I ever tell you that? It's three-thirty in the morning!!!"

"It's not that far and it's a warm night. If we leave now we can be asleep in an hour."

"My feet will get dirty!"

"Probably."

Draco groaned and sat up. "Perhaps in the morning I'll repay you with a broken nose. You have one coming if you recall."

"I recall. Now get up. Let's go."

* * *

Hogsmeade was silent as they passed through, still carrying their piňa coladas and sipping them on occasion. Draco complained about hurting his bare feet on the cobblestone lane and about getting dirt on them but he was too exhausted to complain as much as he preferred. Like Harry's, his socks were crammed in his pockets, hanging out and flopping with each step like dog's ears. His pale expression declared him drunk and sleepy.

Harry felt much the same and longed to touch the Portkey and just go to bed but the thought of Draco Malfoy sleeping in their house kept his feet moving.

They spoke little and the walk took about twenty minutes but, finally, the front doors were in sight.

"Come on." Harry pulled them open and ushered Malfoy inside. "I'm going to collapse in about five minutes."

"No kidding." Draco sighed. "I think I died about ten minutes ago. Would you tell me if I was transparent and ethereal?"

The stairs from the Great Hall to the third floor were laborious and tiring but, once inside the base of the tower, Sara's rooms were a quick broom ride away. Harry went straight to the roof, where the bed still resided, charmed the dirt from his feet and fell into it. Malfoy, to his surprise, followed suit and collapsed onto Sara's side.

Harry yawned, snuggling into the pillow. "There are other beds, you know."

Malfoy yawned in return, pulling the blankets up to his chin. "This one's closest. If you touch me I'll kill you."

Harry didn't reply because he was already asleep. Draco didn't notice anyway, drifting off even as he spoke.

* * *

Sara paced the floor in her rented palazzo. Moonlight splashed the rich marble tile. The Mediterranean crashed against the breaker just below the veranda. Every once in a while, a bit of salty seawater sprayed up over the rail, evaporating in the warm Italian moonlight.

Awakened by a vivid dream of Harry, Sara was anxious and unable to get back to sleep. It was more like a vision and she saw him standing with Draco as a sinister shadow of advancing threat moved behind them, silent, unnoticed. She'd snapped awake, terrified and unable to shake off the dread that seemed to grab her by the throat, making it hard to breathe.

The locator was on the stand by the bed. She'd snatched it up in a near panic and was flooded with relief when it read "home." It was just a dream after all but what was Harry doing at the cottage at this hour? At first, she thought he was spending the night but it would have said he was sleeping. Also, the arm kept moving back and forth between "home" and "drinking." Then again, it said he was drinking quite often lately, which depressed her. Harry was not a drinker. Even when they'd had their Friday night parties on the roof he only ever had a few, if any, especially after the attack on her birthday.

It was her abandonment that pushed him past his limits and Sara knew how inviting the idea of drowning your sorrow could be. She'd done it when her parents died, practically every night for months and continued to deal with her problems in the same way, all the way up to the day she'd left. Since then, she'd vowed never to hide from her emotions again. For Harry's sake as well as her own.

Sara wasn't sure what brought her to Naples. She'd planned to go to Romania where she knew she could find help for what ailed her. The Gypsy community there, Keltse-tia, harbored the secrets of the Elemental and had throughout time. It was the only logical destination but Sara simply wasn't ready to face the darkness in her soul. There were things she had to deal with first, like the death of her mother and father, the overwhelming force inside her that could be so hard to control, and the way she drew the interests of the Dark lord, Voldemort.

Evil appealed to her, not to become evil herself but to observe it, to lose herself in people like Lucius Malfoy, who attracted her physically, mentally, and on many levels. She had to find her inner strength and embrace it in a manner she could maintain, unwaveringly, for life. Danger followed her, her often-timid reaction to any sort of threat invited it, and Sara refused to jeopardize her loved ones through weakness. They could fend for themselves, this she knew, but the part of her that kept secrets imperiled them at every turn. With this on her mind, she brought the Orb of Arassel to the table in her room and sat down in front of it.

"Show me Harry."

As usual, it didn't. She saw a brief glimmer of the tower, a bed sat right in the middle, but it was fuzzy, clouded, and distant. For some reason, her talent did not extend to Harry. She felt things from him, but not like it was with other people. Images did not flash through her mind when she touched Harry. Her divining sense barely noticed him. It was more of an awareness that she had. She knew when he needed her, when he was upset, and when he was angry. She felt a bond with Harry that defied comprehension.

Sara went back to bed, the orb gone dark.

* * *

"What are you doing?" Harry asked, having come from the shower, dressed in comfortable clothes for a few hours in the library with Dumbledore.

"What does it look like? Potter, I think it's time for a new pair of glasses." He lowered his wand and set the bed down on the roof a few feet from Sara's. The sheets retucked themselves after traveling sideways through the doors.

Harry only gave him a blank stare, thinking Malfoy was a little presumptuous. When he'd invited him to stay at Hogwarts, he hadn't necessarily meant on the roof with him. Or even in the tower for that matter.

"I want to sleep out here. I liked it."

"I like it, too." Harry acquiesced. "To be in bed, but staring up at the sky and high above the world, it's nice."

"How whimsical. Do you write poetry, too?" Draco was being sarcastic, as usual.

"Yup. In fact, I just wrote a poem for you, Malfoy. It goes like this;

You own an estate and you look like a girl,

with the mind of a snake and the heart of a squirrel."

Harry grinned his victory and went out, soon to be late for his first private lesson. They wouldn't be doing much more than talking, Harry figured, though he brought a notebook, just in case.

* * *

The headmaster waited in the library when Harry arrived a few minutes early. He stood between the stacks and the tables, leaning on his staff and smiling at Harry.

"I see Mr. Malfoy followed you home. A rather unexpected thing for him to do but at least misery has found company."

"The wrong company." Harry sighed. "He's cut himself off from the other Slytherins. He said he was bored."

"And did he have any new revelations for us?"

"Only that he wouldn't hand Sara over to Voldemort but, if she walked into the room, he's not sure whether or not he would kill her. That's about it."

"That's about enough as well." Dumbledore sighed. "Severus did say Draco was angry. I can't say as I blame him but it's troublesome indeed. What else did he say?"

Harry hesitated, a few thoughts coming to mind. "Nothing."

Dumbledore smiled with a hint of curiosity. "It must have been an interesting evening. As I recall, you aren't on the best of terms."

"Actually, it was fun for the most part. You'd never know it, but he can be funny and he's different now, even more so than this past school year. I'm not sure if it's good or not but, personally, I thought he was next to normal which, for someone like Malfoy, is a little weird."

"I'm sure he'll be back to his old self in no time." Dumbledore turned and indicated Harry walk with him. "Now, Harry, I think it's time you learned how to Apparate."

"But I thought Apparating was impossible at Hogwarts?"

"It is, but there are times when it's entirely necessary so we have a secret chamber, of course."

They approached the shelves that lined the back walls and Dumbledore drew his wand, touching it to the spine of a large black book, covered in dust. At his instruction, Harry did the same. With the password, a swirl of light spiraled the length of Harry's wand. The bookcase came forward and then moved aside, revealing a set of ancient stone steps and plenty of cobwebs. No one had been in here for quite some time.

Dumbledore spoke, as if in answer. "The last time this door was opened was the day your parents died, Harry. Now, it opens once again for you. Come, there's a skill to be mastered."

It was a large chamber. Not huge, but about the size of the Gryffindor common room, dusty and without windows. In one corner of the room sat a wooden table with one chair, along another wall was a long stone ledge upon which one could sleep. To Harry's dismay, a skeleton lay crumbling on one end of it. There were two covered urns on the table and Harry moved to inspect them. One read "Nutrium Potion," the other, "Poison."

Dumbledore was looking over the remains when Harry turned to him. "Wizards get stuck in here?"

"Yes. Wizards like this rather unfortunate fellow. One turns up every once in a while and eventually chooses the poison. I used to come down on occasion but it's slipped my mind these past few years. I wonder how long our friend here lasted?"

"Sir!" Harry said, shocked.

"Don't worry, Harry. Any wizard who tries to get into Hogwarts through this chamber is not on our side. There are very few who know about it. Minerva, Hagrid, and myself."

"Just the three of you?"

"Voldemort knows as well." He sighed. "He was always in the library. In fact, before Miss Granger, Tom Riddle was the last student given a key to the Restricted Section. He overheard a conversation between the headmaster and myself, for I was still teaching at that time, and learned of the Apparition chamber's existence. He could never get in, of course. He needed one of us to unblock his wand, as I just did for you, but he does send one of his followers every so often. Unfortunately for him, he never sees them again."

"Then how do we get out?"

"The same spell that opened the door will allow also lower the spell that holds the room for the one with the correct wand. However, we won't be going anywhere today, I think. We'll stay inside these walls for now."

"What if I end up in China?"

"Then I suggest you come back."

"You know, we learned how to Apparate but I wasn't really able to do it. I tried every time we went to Hogsmeade."

"So you don't think you have the capability?"

"I do, I mean, I have before. Once, when I was running away from my cousin and his friends, I suddenly found myself sitting on a chimney. Now, when I try to do it, I don't move an inch. I'm doing something wrong."

Dumbledore moved to stand behind him and gave his instructions over Harry's shoulder. "Focus on the chair across the room and decide you want to stand beside it. Put all your emotion behind that one thought."

Harry did as he was told, his brow creased with effort and concentration. "It's not working."

"Try harder."

* * *

Around three o'clock, Dumbledore decided to stop for the day. Harry had managed to get to the chair about two out of every ten tries, which was thrilling to him, but it would take some work. They agreed to meet the next morning and Harry was off to the cottage with a book called "Carving with Magic" under his arm.

Malfoy was in his boxers and shirtless when Harry returned, sunning himself on a chase lounge and reading the Quidditch Cup article in Witch Weekly. It stung him to see one of Sara's charms around Draco's neck, one that almost matched his own, but it was Draco's state of undress that upset him the most.

"There goes my appetite." Harry grimaced. "Put some clothes on. This isn't the locker room."

"Jealous?"

"Hardly. Smug bastard. I'll be back later. I have some work to do at the house. Why don't you just go ahead and make yourself at home."

"Of course I will." Draco grinned. "Oh and Potter? I borrowed your toothbrush."

Harry appeared horrified. "Yuck! You've got a lot of nerve!"

"Just kidding. I went to Hogsmeade and bought one."

"You're lucky. I was almost forced to re-break your nose." Harry grinned. "If you want, we can chase the Snitch around later. It's something to do that's outside."

"Sure. And, after that, we'll go to Hogsmeade."

"All right. I need a few things anyway."

"What's that? Carving with Magic? You really are a pansy, aren't you? Will you make me a little ducky?"

"Sure, to go with all the other little things in your bathtub."

With that, Harry touched the key and disappeared, not wanting to have the conversation he'd just opened up.

* * *

The note was still on the kitchen table where he'd left it and, although he was disappointed, it had only been 2 days. She wouldn't go there as often as he would. As anxious as he was to get started, Harry decided to prepare for Sara's next visit.

He opened the house to a beautiful day and a balmy ocean breeze. Charming the drifting debris from the patio, he snipped a big bouquet of white and lavender roses, fresh baby's breath and some weird but pretty purple things and carried them back into the kitchen. There were vases of many shapes and sizes in the pantry and Harry picked what he judged to be the nicest one before he sat at the table, arranging the flowers until they were perfect.

Only then did he open the book.

He'd read most of what he needed to know during the long lunch he and Dumbledore had taken but needed to refresh his memory on a few things, jotting down notes and the spells he'd be using. He'd learned how to blast away rock and create a magical entrance. He now knew how to use his wand to find caverns and even veins of ore. Harry was surprised at how basic it was, how simple.

After changing into his swimming trunks, Harry navigated the narrow ledge that led down the face of the cliff until his feet found the frigid English Channel and he shivered all over. The water was only up to his waist but he couldn't bear the thought of submerging himself in it, regardless of the warm sunny day.

Aiming his wand at the area where he thought the cave was, he created an arc-shaped dam and was amazed when it worked yet again. It was something he'd made up on the spot when he'd first come down and really hadn't thought it would amount to much.

The gritty sand was still wet and cold under his feet but it was better than nothing. Harry made a mental note to bring a pair of sandals on his next visit.

Laying his wand on the palm of his hand, a quick spell revealed he had been right about there being a cave behind his chalk outline and his excitement grew. A cave would mean less rock removal, no matter what its size. It could only be good, unless, of course, something lurked inside it.

A piece of chalk worked its magic at his command, drawing perfect lines, precise spacing, and artful lettering over the older, faded drawing he'd done at Christmas. Stepping all the way back to the edge of the dam, Harry recited the words from the scrap of paper he'd brought and looked on with wide eyes as the chalk began to glow and seemed to sink into the stone. To complete the spell, he gave the password. Diamond Tiara. Harry smiled in spite of himself. He'd had to pick something that wouldn't come up in conversation and this was one phrase he couldn't imagine coming from a boatful of Death Eaters. It was a little joke on Sara, the storybook princess, who would one day live in a little castle high above this very spot.

Harry could see the frame for the arch, etched deep into the rock, and read the legend, smiling at his accomplishment. Friend may pass, but foe beware, lightning strikes all those who dare. Not very clever but it did get the point across.

Now came the moment for which he'd been waiting. Bracing himself for a massive detonation, Harry shielded his face and sent a blast at the arch. The rock crumbled, but didn't explode. An enormous cloud of tiny pieces swept like dust out to sea.

Harry had planned to break up the large chunks he'd expected and levitate them further into the water but, as it turned out, the spell carried out his bidding without any extra effort from him. Left behind was a gaping hole full of darkness and shadow in the perfect, rounded shape of the archway.

Without further ado, Harry stepped into the tunnel, holding his wand like a candle.

"Lumos." His voice echoed through the considerable dark. He waded through thirty meters of chest high water before he found his cave.

Astonishment came with the light and Harry stood rooted to the spot. Wow he thought. This was more than just a cave and, as he waded inside, Harry realized this was a wide cavern, dotted with age-old stalactites and stalagmites, fused into solid columns of sediment. The roof was at least thirty feet high and he couldn't see any back wall. It just seemed to keep going.

The water went over his head in the cave, which Harry was glad of because he wouldn't have to deepen it for the boats but, now that he was soaking wet and freezing, exploring the cave seemed like a good plan for tomorrow. Besides, the sun was getting ready to set and Malfoy was expecting him. Not that Harry cared if Draco had to wait, but a warm shower and some dry clothes sounded wonderful. He made his way out until he stood in the almost-dry work area.

"Nox," he said, extinguishing his wand

Once back on the ledge, Harry released the dam and saw the huge arch had filled itself in and looked like a faint carving in the rock, unnoticeable unless you knew it was there. A smile of promise touched Harry's lips as he climbed and, already, he couldn't wait to return.

* * *

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